Well, I finally made it to Rome, saw the major sights and
now I’m in Lyon. But lets back up a bit, alllll the way to my first flight at
LAX…
My
bag was overweight (surprise surprise) when I realized I had forgotten my
pillow and laptop on my bed back home. The immense sadness that flowed through
my body was unlike any feeling I’ve had before… (Semi-dramatic) How could I
forget my pillow? Damn. Oh well, must press on. I made it to my gate with time
to spare and to my dismay there were no celebs in sight. Bummer. It was 9:15am
when we ascended on our journey to Charlotte, NC. A quaint plane that I got the
pleasure of having the window seat. I hate to fly y’all, I’m a nervous wreck
and I want the trip to go as smooth as possible. So you can imagine my anxiety
when the gentleman next to me wouldn’t turn off his phone during take off. I
wanted to grab his phone and scold him for putting people’s lives in danger for
a simple text. Don’t worry, I refrained from doing so. We landed with a bit of turbulence,
wasn’t a fan. But it was a safe flight and I was satisfied. However, there was
a plane in our parking spot and my connecting flight was going to board in 15
minutes. I impatiently waited and 10 minutes from boarding I escaped my plane
and hauled ass to the next gate and made it in with a bit of time to spare.
Charlotte to Rome was a bigger flight, and my good luck with
seats quickly ended. I was in the isle seats in-between two people. One was a
woman who kindly helped me with my bags and the other was a man. Both Italian,
both quiet. I sat in my seat listening to 7 or 8 men laugh, joke and chat in
Italian and it finally hit me. I was about to start my great adventure! I
couldn’t help but smile wide and occasionally look back at them. I knew nothing
they were saying, but it sounded magnificent. Now before I left on my trip, I
had a bit of bad luck and stress. And a wise friend of mine said, “Everything
happens for a reason, hang in there.” At the time, I really didn’t want to hear
that, but I later realized she was right, Because to my delight one of the
gentlemen was a young man, I’d say no older than 25, and was absolutely
attractive. We made eye contact, he held my gaze and my cheeks became hot. It
was attraction at first sight. He sat behind and to the left of me, so I could
see him in my peripheral vision, and for a few hours we would play the coy game
of eye contact and turn away, with sweet, coy smiles and red, hot cheeks. I was
in heaven. Then I needed to use the restroom. We had been airborne for 4 hours
at least with no signs of turbulence, and so I decided to do the one thing I
swore I’d never do. Use the restroom on a plane. But of course the man next to
me had fallen asleep with his headphones in and I could not wake him. That’s
when my Italian darling spoke to me. He told me to turn up the man’s volume on
his head phones to wake him. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb this man’s
slumber with a jarring, loud burst of noise. I said no way that’s terrible and
he laughed at me. I guess we weren’t as quiet as we thought because that woke
up the gentleman next to me and I was able to get up and use the restroom. It
felt incredible to stretch my legs and back, but I knew I had to return to my
seat. I sat down and was shocked by how quickly my neighbor concked out again.
Suddenly in the corner of my eye I say a light and turned and saw my flirting
partner holding his phone in my view with a message that read, “….back in jail…
:(“ I giggled and knew… these European boys were going to get me into trouble
on this trip. He held up another message when he stood up to go to the
restroom. I couldn’t really read it because his hand was moving too much, but
it was something along the lines of teasing me, telling me the amazing feeling
of being able to get up and stretch. I gave him a pouty look and he smiled, and
my heart sank.
I
got absolutely no sleep on that 9-hour flight and I was exhausted. We arrived
in Roma at 9:30am and I couldn’t deny the large puffy circles under my eyes,
but it was time to get off the plane and find my way to my love, Katrina! I
walked side by side with my heartthrob and chatted about my trip and found out
he was getting back from a trip up the California coastline. He walked me all
the way to the baggage lines and then we parted ways. I never got his name, but
I will never forget his accent.
I drug my gynormous suitcase around the station looking for
my train to the center of Roma, the Leonardo Express. Finally found it paid
fourteen Euros too much and headed to the station. At this point it was 10:40am
and I had told Katrina 9:30am. So I grabbed my phone to give her a shout. (also
my train was gonna take a half hour) And then BOOM! It hit me like a ton of
bricks… my phone doesn’t work here. Shit. I couldn’t call, text, email, facebook,
or carrier pigeon. I was screwed. I pulled up to the station and found it to be
tiny. I had directions to the place we were staying, but Katrina was supposed
to be meeting me. So I didn’t want to leave incase she was here. I looked for
the tram we were suppose to be meeting at and couldn’t seem to find it. Little
did I know it was outside across the street. Suddenly I spotted and payphone
and attempted to my a call to my traveling buddy, informing her I was about to
curl up in a ball and begin my mental break down. However, I could not reach
her. For some reason the payphone had a vendetta against cell phones and
refused to help me out in anyway. But I refused to cry. The Italians would
judge me, and possibly take advantage. I bit my lip hard, and after a half hour
of attempted phone calls and no odds ever in my favor, I decided to go my last
resort route and take a cab.
I
was greeted outside by a cabbie and a giant puff of cigarette smoke. He asked
me if I needed a taxi and I asked him if he took credit cards. Of course with
my luck he quickly responded with a no, but was kind enough to let me know, no
taxis do and pointed me in the direction of an ATM. I walked around the corner
and to my surprise found out the train station is incredibly larger than I had
thought and I was suddenly flooded with an overwhelming sense of failure and
wanted to drop all my belongings and cry for days. But again! I pressed on. Got
my cash and went out to wait for a taxi. After waiting for 20 minutes, my
original cigarette puffer stopped and picked me up. I told him where I needed
to go, and he pulled out what I thought was the yellow pages, but was actually
a map of Roma whilst driving.
The
stories you hear of the driving madness in Italy are no joke. It is the most frightening
experience I’ve felt. There are no lanes and really no speed limit. Red lights
are run frequently and the sounds of the famous horn, “egh egh” fill the air.
Drives park their car wherever they see fit. So what you think is a parking
lot, is actually just a road. I fear for my life, took a deep breath, and
closed my eyes until we arrived. Nineteen Euros later I had finally made it.
I
walked up to the door of the apartment building and immediately realized I had
no idea what number it was. Luckily I was greeted by an elderly Italian man
with what looked like the Italian version of people magazine. He asked in
Italian, I assume but don’t quote me, what I was doing there or who I was
looking for. I told him Elisa, and he looked puzzled. Shit. Had I been dropped
off at the wrong place? I asked him if he had a phone I could use multiple
times but he disregarded my pleas and asked for more information. Which I
really didn’t have. I pulled out the only thing I could think of, my phone with
the email for Katrina, and showed him. He read it and with a giant, “Aha”
moment, he exclaimed, “AH! Elisa!” …Yes dude… I just said that.. Whatever. He
pressed the button for the apartment and a mans voice answered. Great… I’m
about to get sold into sex slavery. I just know it. He asked for Elisa and the
man on the intercom responded in Italian, so I had no idea what was happening.
I merely prepared myself for the worst. The old man told me something in
Italian and the only thing I got out of it was “quarto”. Okay… four… what??? He
waved his hand, rolled his eyes, grabbed my bag and told me to follow him. He
took me up to the elevator and pressed the button for floor four. (oooohh.)
When he got to our floor he rang the bell and a man in his late 20s early 30s
and a girl my age answered. I asked them if Katrina was staying here and they
looked puzzled. Awesome. I said, “Blonde girl staying with Elisa??”. “Ah! Si si!” they said and invited me
in. The girl informed me that Katrina wasn’t there and I told her I knew she
was probably still looking for me, and asked if I could use her phone. She
gladly gave it to me and I called up Katrina. As I suspected she was at the
train station worried sick and told me to sit tight for a half hour and she
would come to the apartment so we could start our journey. So I sat and chatted
with Elisa’s roommates and waited for Katrina to come and rescue me from the heinous
2 or 3 hours I had just experienced.
I
felt a bit of accomplishment and no more urges to cry. I had made it. I was
alive and I was settled. And then Katrina breezed through the door and welcomed
me with open arms and a much needed hug. Now it was time for our tours of Roma!
… and a cappuccino.
To
be continued…
Cass
<3
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